


A Weight and a Price

by lea_hazel



Category: Cinders (Visual Novel)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fate & Destiny, Fractured Fairy Tale, Gen, Illnesses, Independent Woman Ending, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Sister-Sister Relationship, Soul Bond, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Cinders is established as the lady of the house, it's up to Sophia and Gloria to find their own destinies. Sophia proceeds to do just this, in her own inimitable style. Background het.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Weight and a Price

“I don’t know who that sister of yours thinks she’s fooling.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mother,” said Gloria.

Carmosa gestured broadly at the crowded ballroom. “She should be here, with us, mingling and dancing. Hiding like a wilting flower does her no credit.”

“She’s not in the library this time, Mother,” said Gloria. “I checked.”

“Piffle,” said Lady Carmosa with a scowl reminiscent of her darkest days as lady of the manor. “Of course she’s not in the library. Our charming hostess is attending a gathering of preeminent poets to introduce them to her latest protege. Sophia would not dare be seen in such company in her current state.”

“State, Mother?” asked Gloria. “I’m not certain what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, stop that!” said Carmosa sharply. “You’re not half as dim as you make yourself out to be. You speak with Sophia every day. Even you must have noticed her disgrace.”

“Mother,” said Gloria, “be reasonable. Sophia would never tarnish the family reputation like that. Even if she were inclined to give away her virtue, which I am quite certain is not the case.”

Carmosa appraised her critically. “Of course she hasn't lost her virtue. The situation is far more dire. But I’ll not speak of such things here, where there are so many listening ears attached to so many wagging tongues. Now go to the kitchen and fetch your sister some cold water.”

“Mother, I’m certain Sophia is fine,” said Gloria. “It’s nothing more than an early summer cold.”

“Exactly,” said Lady Carmosa, smiling over gritted teeth.

 

* * *

 

“There’s no need for hysterics, you know,” said Sophia bitterly.

Gloria thought she was being remarkably calm, holding her sister’s hair as she threw up for the third time that day. “All I said was,” she interjected delicately, “that if you are in trouble, I hope you know you can confide in me.”

Sophia laughed and then retched.

“Whatever it is,” Gloria went on, “I’m certain we can find a solution between the two of us. If-- if there is a child involved--”

“Ha!” croaked Sophia.

Gloria looked at her, puzzled. “You mean, you’re not pregnant?”

“I wish,” she said, wiping her face with a damp cloth that had once been cool and fresh.

“Sophia!” said Gloria. “Don’t be vulgar. A lady ought to guard her virtue, you know.”

“I know, Gloria,” said Sophia irritably. “Trust me, my virtue is a glass chalice with no fingerprints just as Mother taught us. As though it could ever be at risk.”

“Oh,” said Gloria, relieved. “Good.”

Sophia sipped cautiously from the water glass she’d poured her and waited.

It only took a few moments. She could almost hear the click of the gears in her mind falling into place.

Gloria rounded on her sister. “Sophia,” she said ominously, “what did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Sophia with a long-suffering sigh. “I haven’t done anything at all. I haven’t said anything, I haven’t spoken to anyone, I haven’t accepted any gifts, offers or promises.”

“Have you been listening to Cinders tell her absurd fairy tales?” asked Gloria. “Don’t tell me you believe in that claptrap. It’s nothing but lurid phantasms, insipid airy nothings for the weak-willed. Cinders spins them for the benefit of her guests. You’re not meant to take them so-- so-- literally.”

Sophia laughed bitterly. “I wanted to see if there was any substance to what she said. More’s the fool I.”

“Sophia, I don’t understand!” said Gloria. “Speak plainly, could you? Did you make some sort of deal with those creatures by the lake?”

She opened her mouth to start speaking but was wracked by another fit. Bent over a wooden bucket, she coughed out the words in between heaves. “Do it better-- without even trying-- ugh.”

Just then the bedroom door opened with a heavy thump.

“Mother!” said Gloria, hurriedly standing up and smoothing out her skirts.

Lady Carmosa’s eyes moved smoothly over the room, taking in the positions of both her daughters and every item in the room, from the bucket with its questionable contents to the towel that Gloria had earlier been pressing to her sister’s face.

“Demons, girl,” said her mother, “what have you done to yourself this time?”

“Of course,” said Sophia, her voice roughened by her raw throat. “There is nothing that I enjoy more than a good spell of vomiting.”

“Don’t talk back to me, girl!” said Carmosa. “This is your own fault. Gloria, open all the windows and get some fresh air into this room. The stink is uncivilized. Sophia, get up and make yourself presentable. You’re needed in the salon.”

Sophia choked out a laugh like a froggy croak. “I highly doubt that, Mother. Cinders is more than able to handle this rowdy crowd even _without_ my famously sweet disposition and talent for hosting noble gatherings.”

Lady Carmosa crossed her arms ominously over her red brocade bodice. “Listen to me, girl,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. “I know everything that happens in this house. Nothing gets by me. Not servants necking in the pantry, not the housekeeper dipping her fingers into the petty cash, and not daughters too-clever-by-half sneaking out into the woods at midnight, even though they know perfectly well how dangerous it is!”

Sophia cringed visibly. “What--” she started.

Carmosa raised a single finger to silence her. “Gloria, what do you see outside the window?”

Startled, Gloria turned back to the windows she had just opened. “A carriage is drawing up the path, accompanied by six-- no, eight horsemen.  The footmen are dressed in--” she stopped and gasped. “That’s royal livery, isn't it?”

“You’d best recognize it by now, Gloria,” said her mother. “You’ll be seeing a great deal more of it.”

“What do you mean?” said Gloria.

Sophia rose slowly to her feet, wiping her mouth on the towel. “Yes, Mother,” she said. “What on earth could you mean by that?”

Carmosa’s mouth looked pinched, and her eyes narrowed. “Do you think I don’t know glamour sickness when I see it, girl?”

Blanched from her bout of ill-humor, Sophia’s face showed no emotion.

“Sophia,” said Gloria, looking from one to the other and back again. “What is going on here?”

“Make yourself presentable,” said Lady Carmosa again. “You wanted a destiny and you got one. Don’t think to try and evade it now. There is a price to be paid for striking that kind of deal. If you did not heed all my earlier warnings, perhaps this will move you: what you feel now is nothing compared to the price that’s yet to be paid.”

“Gloria,” croaked Sophia weakly. “Could you help me dress?”

“Of course,” said her sister, rushing to her side.

“Be swift about it,” said Carmosa from the doorway. “Your prince is waiting.”


End file.
